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I Would Rather Starve Than Eat Your Bread

“The waiting drove me mad
You’re finally here and I’m a mess
I take your entrance back
Can’t let you roam inside my head
I don’t want to take what you can give
I would rather starve than eat your bread
I would rather run but I can’t walk
Guess I’ll lay alone just like before”

I would rather starve than eat your bread, I would rather run but I can't walk, Guess I'll lay alone just like before

I’m trying to remember WHY I had this song down as my Friday post song.

It was between this one and Sabrina Carpenter’s Espresso, and I think many of us can agree that Espresso is too inappropriate for this post. The lyrics made me wince! Pearl Jam won’t make me wince. Anyway, I’m burning the near midnight oil to even START this blog post on Thursday. It’s hard to say if my near-comatose state of mind is because I have four kids and five dogs and ran around all day (even to CT and back for ice cream), or if this is from my epsom salt bath. It surely has calming ingredients. OR, and this is no stretch, it could be because I took Zyrtec today for the pollen. The reason I’m even giving it pause, is because normally I can run on under four cylinders. Surely one of those reasons could knock me out, and surely two or all three reasons would be the reason. I’m weird, though. You never know what I can still accomplish in any weird bodily state.

Fevers, being in labor, a near-broken toe? Busyness and baths and allergy medicine, oh my.

So, the last time I remember being super emotional was a week ago on Wednesday. A therapy session. This week, therapy for me and physical therapy for Sawyer were canceled. We’ve both been working extra hard, but it’s not like the week necessarily goes easy on us when therapy is canceled. Sawyer has his annual well visit tomorrow morning. And I have to take him there. Since my last therapy session, it’s almost like I’ve been temporarily all cried out. All out of f***s to give. And you can google Espresso lyrics to figure out why that song was almost used. This time of year has a foggy quality. Pollen and humidity usually descend like a violent storm. You may find yourself falling asleep in the middle of the day. This is ok! It’s the storms! It’s also the most insane time of year when you’re a parent. It’s end of year parties and recitals and concerts and parties. Even when you want to sleep in your pollen and humidity and Zyrtec haze, you’re expected to be present. I spent today with no anxiety. I also had no caffeine. Hmm, I wonder if they’re related.

No espresso for me, you see.

I would rather starve than eat your bread, I would rather run but I can't walk, Guess I'll lay alone just like before

I would rather starve than eat your bread, I would rather run but I can't walk, Guess I'll lay alone just like before

In my post last Friday, I spoke almost in matter of fact tones. I still feel off from my Tamara-ness, but it’s not matter of fact, and it’s not numb. Maybe it’s like I’m in this haze. It’s the pre and post storms of overwhelming pollen and humidity and being present. Some things get better, sure, like the puppies are slowly being slightly more upstanding. Only slightly. Lucy’s leg gets stronger every day. Almost too strong because she still has four weeks of strict bedrest, and she certainly isn’t bed-resting. I relate, of course, because when have I ever bed-rested or taken a leave of absence or even a maternity leave? I keep plugging away with my weird work and my weird words and my weird worries. Earlier tonight, I really thought I was sick. I thought, “Well it’s finally caught up with me.” You can’t get through norovirus and COVID in the house, and then tiny colds, and all the stress and the muddling and fumbling through. Now I’m upright and I’m up-writing, and hey, crazy things can happen. Maybe I’m not fighting and fighting through, just to fall or fail.

Maybe I’m fighting to stay on my feet, and then gain a little stability. Weather the storms.

I would rather starve than eat your bread, I would rather run but I can't walk, Guess I'll lay alone just like before

I didn’t expect it. Not any of it. Not the dogs silently farting in my direction. Not to be upright, and not ill or asleep. To have a warm bed upstairs; maybe it’s waiting for me. I didn’t expect the wild and weird words and not the photos either. I can never be too numb, or too in a hazy daze, for it not to all to creep back. There’s comfort in the slightly faster beating of my heart when I think of alternating between Taylor Swift and Bruce Hornsby (what do they have in common other than Bon Iver? It’s deep Bowman love), and when I go on drives for ice cream, and bring it back for friends. It’s thinking about donut parties to attend, donut parties to host, and that we’d have a lot of great friends to invite. I think about a seaside hotel that might be waiting for me, to get some rest and clarity, and maybe none of the above. Just to say I tried. Sea salt in the air, and one foot dipped in the ocean. It’s thinking about unfolding adventures this June, July, and August, and stick with me, my friends. When I tell you that there are quite amazing things to come, some of them might be unbelievable. Can we pull them off? Well, we can pull off a lot. It’s my words and my photos and my sitting and standing straight up. It’s the garden and the dogs and the five(ish) members of my family who don’t have anxiety and will surely pull off whatever I fall short with.

I would rather starve than eat your bread, I would rather run but I can't walk, Guess I'll lay alone just like before

I would rather starve than eat your bread, I would rather run but I can't walk, Guess I'll lay alone just like before

It’s because I wrote this post, when I thought I had nothing left. Not tonight, and maybe not for a while. The tears dried up, and took with them – some fears and resentment. Some f***s to give too. And it’s always an accomplishment to cut through this haze and this daze. It’s a sense of accomplishment at the multitude of things we all do, all day, every day, and the fact that a simple mountain view or sunset can still catch our breath. Always good to stop and turn; answer the call.

Of birdsong and music-song and the weird and wild words we all have to say.

I would rather starve than eat your bread, I would rather run but I can't walk, Guess I'll lay alone just like before

I would rather starve than eat your bread, I would rather run but I can't walk, Guess I'll lay alone just like before

“I don’t want to hear from those who know
They can buy but can’t put on my clothes
I don’t want to limp for them to walk
Never would have known of me before
I don’t want to be held in your debt
I’ll pay it off in blood let I be wed
I’m already cut up and half dead
I’ll end up alone like I began
Everything has chains, absolutely nothing’s changed”

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One Comment

  1. Seems no two weeks are ever quite the same in the Bowmans’ beautiful and spacious New England home. There is always plenty of activity though from week to week and l Can So Relate To That! Your pictures offer us a much more serene look and feel to the active week that was. Nice balancing act Tamara! Pressure filled frustration and disillusionment come pouring out Corduroy’s music and lyrics right from the start. Pearl Jam’s fame and popularity were exploding across the 🌎 at that time, and so were the ever mounting pressures that come with world wide success.

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